


Would you love a serial killer?

by occasionallyawriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Molly, Dark!Molly, F/M, Mainly Sherlolly at the end, Molly-centric, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionallyawriter/pseuds/occasionallyawriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh Molly, I would love you even if you were a serial killer." She's fifteen and it's a mouse that dies. She's at uni and the blood is on her hands again, it's a scarlet glove that she can't remove. It's morbid curiosity, it's the thrill that Sherlock could catch her. It's the one thing not even Sherlock can deduce, and she loves it. The darkness is her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Would you love a serial killer?

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sherlock and nor do I own its characters. This is the first time I have written Molly as dark or even any Sherlolly that wasn't fluffy so if it is clumsily written I apologise. Anyway, enjoy. Also I wrote this after Sherlolly-is-jolly sent me a prompt over twitter.

“Oh Molly I would love you even if you were a serial killer”  
She easily could locate the organs, even covered by a thin veil of skin as armour. Morbid Molly, queen of the dead, they used to call her. Poking around dead things, wanting to know why the class rabbit dropped dead over night when he was fine the day before. Why the cancer ran through her dad like he was water until there was nothing left. Why? Why? Why? But then it became more than a morbid curiosity, in some ways it became a lifestyle. She couldn’t just cut them up and find out how they died. She had to be the cause.  
It started small, a fifteen year old Molly in her bedroom with a mouse caught in a trap she had placed strategically in the kitchen. The thing was a menace, a rodent that no one would miss and seeing it helpless in the contraption made her feel something. Of course she felt sorrow for the poor creature, it couldn’t help what it was but rigamortis setting in gave her a kick. A rush of something akin to adrenaline filled her being except she wasn’t on the saw ride a Thorpe park.

She created a persona over the years to hide Morbid Molly away, she continued to kill and maim things to aid her curious nature, all for the sake of pathology and science. Morbid Molly became Mousy molly who stammered and struggled to socialise with people who barely knew her. The thrill of it all continued until she met Richard Brooks at university, both drawn by intrigue in one another, a knowing that neither person were who they said they were. Rich scared Molly, he scared her in the way that the mouse had scared her all those years ago. She stood by and watched as he set up the criminal ties to start a network, helped him create the perfect murder. She kissed him as they wounded others, loved him as his enemies fell one by one. Never caught, they continued on in his little game until one day he just disappeared. Only a business card left in his wake. _Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal._

Jim or Rich or whoever he was may have left her but he awakened something in her. A craving, a want to kill more than the animals she had done as a teenager. A want to cause the deaths that ended up on her slab in the morgue, to have the knowing feeling that she had made them this way. At first it was an unknown man who tried to mug her as she walked past an alley, it was chance. An accident. It still felt good though, filled her with adrenaline and that same sickness she felt with the mouse all those years ago. She was both horrified that she, mousy morbid Molly could do such a thing, and thrilled at the same time that once more her hands were coated in crimson blood. That same crimson she saw on Rich’s clothes when he came back to the flat late, the crimson that made her want the mad man more than she should.

She meets Sherlock Holmes on a Monday. She begins to fall for him on a Tuesday, it all started with the danger that he could catch her any day. Yes, she didn’t murder many people. You could hardly call her a serial killer, but the odd few in the morgue were caused by her. He was never chosen to investigate her murders, they were seen as accidents and nothing more. Random killings that were unconnected, just like the serial killer cab driver except in truth there was a connection between his victims. Albeit a small connection, but there was still one there. Time went on and Molly Hooper counted, Molly Hooper helped him. She helped Jim too.  
Jim helped fix her wants, her desires, he opened up her inner killer as more people began to fall at her feet. Cloaked in the darkness of the morgue, Sherlock waited for her as she washed the blood off of her hands.

“How long have you been doing this Molly?” Sherlock asked, through the cold blackness of the morgue.

“Been doing what Sherlock? If you mean working in a morgue, then you should know the answer to that.” She spoke, walking to him, drawn to him. Hypnotized by the danger he was to her, in love with every aspect of him.

“How long have you been murdering Molly, I mean Morbid Molly is obvious given your profession but murdering. I knew you were capable of great things Molly, many things but not this.” He muttered as she sat on the stall next to him.

“A mouse when I was fifteen and after that I couldn’t stop.” She explained quietly. “I helped Richard Brooks, well Jim Moriarty. We met at uni, I helped him set up his network. I stood by him as he killed those who posed a threat to him that he couldn’t play with. I was with him before he was the spider in a web.” She smiled fondly at the memories she had of him, his smile as he came home covered in blood that belonged to both him and others.

“I should turn you in, I should ask you why but I already know.” He smiled, caressing her face. “John misses the thrill of the war, gets it from chasing criminals, and you Molly. You get that thrill from seeing a cold body on a slab here that you put there. You never kill innocents though.” He continued, wanting to understand the woman in front of him.

“They don’t deserve to die, but the people who hurt others. Hurt children, beat their wives don’t deserve to live.” She grinned, leaning in towards him. “I am disgusted by what I am, but excited too. I love that I feel this way. “She spoke softly.

“I love you Molly Hooper.” Sherlock smiled, kissing her softly. “I hate that I never knew this about you, that I couldn’t deduce this from you. There is always something though, something I miss. You’re dark Molly Hooper, and I like it. I would love you Molly even if you were a serial killer.” He smirked, making her blush.

“That’s good because if I were a serial killer only one person could catch me. You.”


End file.
